The Sound of Silence
by CarolinaBP
Summary: [One-shot] A small recollection of Kazuya's thoughts after he takes over the Mishima Zaibatsu, right after he wins the King of Iron Fist Tournament 1. Based on the song "The Sound of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkel.


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 **The Sound of Silence**

Colder than the night, only me. I watch the buzzing city under me as the minutes pass by. The grey buildings and streets match the pitch-black sky, but contrast with the few bright white stars. The moon is nowhere to be seen.

My gaze, however, is focused on the people and vehicles passing by. From this perspective, I have a literal expression of what they are when compared to me: ants. Being on the top floor of the Mishima Zaibatsu, above the mere mortals, the exact and rightful superior one that I am.

 **That's the spirit** , the Devil whispers playfully in my mind.

 _Hello darkness, my old friend  
I've come to talk with you again_

The Devil has been my sole companion through all my life. Before I faced him, I had nobody. While I was unconscious on the stone ground, after a huge fall from the top of the ravine, the Devil visited me.

 _Because a vision softly creeping  
Left its seeds while I was sleeping_

Since then, he has always been with me. And has always been there for me. Whenever something bad happened, he would tell me to wait – because better things were about to come.

And so I did. I waited. He was right. I am Kazuya Mishima, CEO of the Mishima Zaibatsu. Feared and respected. Respected and feared. Higher than me, there is only God himself – that is, if the guy even exists - what a nuisance. I am real; I am here.

In exchange for everything the Devil has done for me, I've let him stay. And I've let him do what he wants. Chaos, destruction, damage – that and much more is going on around the world, only to satisfy his needs, as we keep ourselves silently watching from the best seat of the audience.

 _And the vision that was planted in my brain  
Still remains  
Within the sound of silence_

I still remember how I felt hopeless and helpless back then. I still remember the nightmares I've had – roving alone in the streets, facing the unknown hidden in the darkness, surrounded by the deafening muteness, only able to see myself soaking wet because of the heavy rain, only able to shiver.

 _In restless dreams I walked alone  
Narrow streets of cobblestone  
'Neath the halo of a street lamp  
I turned my collar to the cold and damp_

Whenever my stubborn childish side would manifest itself during the night, releasing its fragility from the subconscious of my brain, the Devil would interfere. His purple body and three red eyes would pierce the night and awake me to tell me that better times were about to come. Although it was literally the Devil himself, the image was still pleasant, was still calming. In him, I was safe, just as he was safe in me. He built the barrier between my fears and my potential.

 _When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light  
That split the night  
And touched the sound of silence_

Indeed, better times have come. At least for me, that's for sure. The chaos has spread itself through this useless planet and I have got the best seat - the most comfortable seat, where the illumination works better and the best view – the throne. From the superior position I watch all humanity fall. If ten thousand, one hundred million or more people need to suffer in order to get me more power, I will do it. After all, power is everything.

 _And in the naked light I saw  
Ten thousand people maybe more_

Women crying for their babies. Men crying for their wives. Kids crying for their pets. Dirty people embraced by ragged clothes, running for their lives, away from the explosions, the gun fires, the drugs, the thieves, the sadness.

When they do such thing, they scream. But their voice is lifeless. The people who can help only close their eyes to them and pretend not to know. The few ones who keep their eyes opened, are able to see not only the ones in need, but also able to see there is nothing that can be done for them. Some of those attempt to write the melodies of the abyss, translating the cries into letters, the screams into words, the tears into texts, the pains into pages.

 _People talking without speaking  
People hearing without listening  
People writing songs that voices never shared_

But that is a waste. Nobody will ever come for them.

 _No one dared  
Disturb the sound of silence_

Nuisance. That's the only word that can describe their stupid attempts to survive. Don't they know that destruction spreads itself through the world like a disease spreads itself through our bodies? Only if they could see what I've done to survive and learn from me.

 _"Fools," said I, "you do not know  
Silence like a cancer grows  
Hear my words that I might teach you  
Take my arms that I might reach you"_

But they can't. And they never will. Just as the mess is silent for the organized, the organization is silent for the disoriented.

 _But my words like silent raindrops fell  
And echoed in the wells of silence_

Some of them pray to their gods.

 _And the people bowed and prayed  
To the neon god they made_

Some give up into themselves and traits of insanity take their ultimate control. They ramble about the end of the world, and fill their hearts with sorrow after hope has faded. They cry for the underworld, the lakes of sulfur and the burning marbles. Indeed they should.

 _And the sign flashed out its warning  
In the words that it was forming_

But it's too late. There is no salvation. There is no turning back. As far as I'm in control, things are going to be my way, and if my way is to satisfy the Devil within that has made me survive, then be it. As always, I couldn't care less.

Sweep your saints and gods under rugs, ants. Hide them behind the walls, on the condominiums, the asylums, the orphanages, the bars, the undergrounds.

 _And the sign said "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls  
And tenement halls_

 **Get all that nuisance out of my way. I am coming. I am passing through. Each of my stomps is a violent earthquake. Each of my breaths is a restless hurricane. Each blink of my eyes are burning and deafening explosions. Each of my smirks are murders. My existance is death upon you. My whisper of action is the muteness of your corpses.**

 _And whispered in the sound of silence"_

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 **Author's notes:** Hello there. Thanks for reading!  
"My Immortal", another one-shot based on the song of the same name by Evanescence, is a non-mandatory sequel to this.


End file.
